he said.
She dug her hand into the stones and clutched a fistful. “Ransom my team.”
The people huddled around the SUV cheered. Nakamura let the stones—cubic zirconia, playtime diamonds—cascade back into the box.
Reiniger pulled her to her feet. “You okay?”
She wobbled, but smiled. “You owe me a raise.”
A medic jogged up. “Let’s take a look at that arm.”
Her colleagues thronged her. Autumn grinned and applauded. The woman was tough. From the roof of the Mercedes SUV, a cameraman panned the scene, catching their glee.
And . . . cut. Cue the music from Chariots of Fire. Autumn strolled toward her dad, hands in the back pockets of her jeans.
The game runner got to Reiniger first. “We’ll edit the video and burn copies for everybody.”
Reiniger nodded. “We’ll stream it at our board meeting.”
The game runner, a black guy with the hard fitness of a running back, poured antiseptic on a gauze pad and handed it to Reiniger. “Clean up.”
Cleaning up was what Edge Adventures did. Absolutely. Reiniger pushed up the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Scrapes covered his elbow. This kidnap scenario looked to Autumn like it had been rowdier than most.
She took the gauze pad from him and dabbed at the scrapes. “Messy.”
“Realistic,” he said. “The screaming’s all part of the game.” Only at team-building weekends run for Reiniger Capital.
“It’s how I find out what my people are made of,” he said. Autumn had heard it from her dad before: Running a hedge fund could be risky and stressful, but Edge Adventures helped people find what was really inside. Toughness. Spirit. His staff now clustered around a cooler, beer bottles in hand, exhausted and proud. Two of them grabbed the lockbox and poured the fake diamonds over Nakamura’s head, as if dumping a bucket of ice on the winning coach at a football game.
Edge Adventures didn’t simply sell excitement. They showed clients the light.
Edge created urban reality games, role-playing scenarios that took clients into an imagined demimonde of crime and rescue. They threw people in the soup.
Edge offered kidnappings, manhunts by bounty hunters, and even a night locked in a morgue—all in all, the chance to face your demons and to act out fantasies of crime and danger. Today, Edge had grabbed Peter Reiniger’s team off a street in downtown San Francisco for a simulated heist scenario.
Coates, the game runner, checked Reiniger’s elbow. “It’s fine.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask for a discount,” he said.
Autumn saw a quick jab of anxiety on Coates’s face, and thought: And he’s not going to sue you.
“We’re cool,” Reiniger said. “This was what my daughter here calls sick fun.”
Autumn rolled her eyes.
Coates slapped Reiniger on the back. “As always, we’re happy to have your business.”
“However, I do want to speak to you about our run-in with the police. See me inside in five minutes.”
Frowning, Coates went to help the Edge staff load their gear into the SUV—ropes, emergency flares, and replica firearms that looked mean as all get-out.
Reiniger turned to Autumn. “You’re half an hour late.”
“My car isn’t working right. There’s a light on the dashboard.”
“Which light?”
“The one that tells you it’s time to buy a new car.”
“You mean 'Service’?”
Laughing, she stretched and kissed his cheek. “Joking, Dad.”
“Sure you are.”
Autumn was a month shy of turning twenty-one. She bounced on her toes, knowing he would get the message. Big birthday. Better think big gifts.
She nodded at the scene on the driveway. “You wanted me to watch the grand finale why, exactly?”
“To see how things work.”
“Work? You’re playing Ocean’s Eleven. And Name That Phobia.” She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t deny it.”
“I don’t.”
“But you wanted me to sit on the sidelines. And what, cheer?” She crossed her arms. “Put Band-Aids on their boo-boos?”
He crooked his index finger and beckoned her to follow him. Inside, the house was gauzy with sunshine. The view through the living room to the terrace showed windswept Monterey pines and the blue waters of the bay.
Reiniger said, “Hold out your hand.”
Lightness, anticipation, winged through her. About time. She raised her hand. And Reiniger slapped a heavy manila envelope into her palm. She eyed him uncertainly.
“Open it,” he said.
Autumn tore open the envelope. Inside was a memo. It was stamped, in red, CLASSIFIED.
From: Edge Adventures
To: Autumn Reiniger
Re: Your assignment
“Welcome to adulthood,” he said. “You bought me a game?”
OUTLAW is an urban reality scenario that off ers a variety of roles for you and your closest friends. Crime syndicate boss, bounty hunter, prison escapee. Edge employees will take other roles and run the scenario.
“A three-day weekend, for six of you.” Reiniger smiled. “It’s a designer crime spree.”
Her confusion began to clear. Ultra-deluxe. Outlaw. Prison break.
“Oh my God. Do we get a speedboat?” she said.
“If you want one.”
Helicopter rescue.
“Dad—is this for real?”
Hunt down the crime boss, or BE the boss and escape the long arm of the law.
“And this is totally plush, right? No team building. No 'get in touch with your inner hero.’ ” Her voice turned hard. “No 'fight your demons.’ Just fun. And five star. Right?”
He pointed to the location of their syndicate headquarters: the Mandarin Oriental.
“Happy
